A Reichenbach Tale
by KL08
Summary: Another post-Recheinbach fall fanfic. How will John deal at first? And how will he deal when he sees it was all fake? Major Johnlock to come further. probably some angst and some fluff and maybe more ! I take request if you want!
1. Chapter 1

**So, this is just to put you all back into context of The Reichenbach Fall ending. So if you pretty much know it by heart you can just skip to the next chapter, it's pretty much up to you J The end of this episode had me crying, I have to admit! This is my first Sherlock fic, tell me what you think, advice, suggestions I'm really open to everything :) Enjoy**

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"John".

"Hey! Sherlock are you okay?"

"Turn around and walk back where you came from."

"No I'm coming in."

"Just do as I ask! Please." _Something's wrong. Please… Sherlock would never say such a thing…_

"Where?"

"Stop there."

"Sherlock?"

"Look now I'm on the roof top."

"Oh god…" _I really didn't like how this was starting off. Some experiment of some sort I guess, testing my limits again._

"I..I.. I can't come down, so we… we'll just have to do it like this…" _Okay, this is definitely not an experiment. What is IT he is talking about? Sherlock is no ordinary man, I know what I'm thinking right now can't apply to him. I hope not… _

"What's going on?"

"An apology… It's all true."

"What ?"

"Everything they said about me. I… invented Moriarty." _For God's sake, invented Moriarty. How could he even think that I would believe this? Especially after Jim Moriarty himself threatened to kill me wrapping me in a bomb vest! Faking to be an actor, it was ridiculous. _

"Why are you saying this?"

"I'm a fake."

"Sherlock."

"The newspapers were right all along. I want you to tell Lestrade … I want you to tell Mrs. Hudson, and Molly. In fact, tell anyone who will listen to you. That I created Moriarty. For my own purposes." _Why was he saying this? He could tell them himself. This can't be happening right now can it…? Not Sherlock. _

"Okay shut up Sherlock, shut up. The first time we met. The first time we met, you knew all about my sister, right…"

"Nobody can be that clever."

"You could." _ He's laughing. Why is he laughing? Wait no… What? Crying? Sherlock Holmes is crying…_

"I researched you. Before we met I discovered everything that I could to impress you. It's a trick, just a magic trick." _How could he even research me? It's impossible. _

"No. Alright, stop it now!" I exclaimed running towards the building. _I had to get to him. I didn't want him to do anything he'd regret. I just didn't think he would be this affected by what the newspapers said, I had to help him. _

"No stay EXACTLY where you are! Don't move."

"Alright…" _I said backing up. I didn't want to do any sudden movements, who knew what could happen…_

"Keep your eyes fixed on ME. Please will you do this for me?"

"Do what?" _I didn't really want to know the answer; I kind of had in mind what it would be. But I asked anyway…_

"This phone call it's umm. It's my note. It's what people do don't they? Leave a note…"

"Leave a note when?" _Maybe if I got him to explain he wasn't going to go through this, please…_

"Goodbye John." _He threw the phone. This can't be happening._

"No…." _I was shaking my head. "_Don't…". _He didn't hear me. He jumped. Falling from the top of the hospital roof… _ "SHERLOOCCCKKKK!"

_I can't hear anything anymore. I run towards him as fast as my mind lets me. A bike hits me. I fall. Get up again Blood, everywhere…There are too many people around. _Sherlock… Sherlock._ I want him to hear me. I want this to end right now. _

"I'm a doctor, let me come through. Let me come through please, let me, he's my friend." _I can't stop my voice from shaking. "_He's my friend please…"_ They keep me from moving towards him. I take his wrist, his pulse. His hand falls back. He's dead. "_Please please…"_ I can't stand anymore. "_Sherlock_…" his hair soaked with blood." _God no…"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Funny how on our worst days, the temperature can just amplify things. Rain. Just to keep the tears coming as soon as they start fading. Just like God was laughing to our face. Oh, sure this is really funny. Just not for me.

I think others noticed. That's why I'm here. It's only been a week and they are already telling me to visit my therapist, Ella Thompson. Not like it would change anything really, but it would ease their minds.

"Why today?" She asks after a moment of silence I was obviously not going to break.

"You want me to say it." _Good deduction Watson! I could just imagine Sherlock criticising my lack of deduction as always. I already miss it._

"18 months since our last appointment." _Wow. She's not bad herself; she knows how to count up to 18. Had it been so short? Had I not known Sherlock any longer? Who would've believed, after I stopped coming here thanks to him, that he would be the one to bring me back to starting point. Only it was much worse now. I couldn't stop hearing everything he would say._

"You read the papers?" _You know, those ironic newspapers. The Sun it's called. And in first page: "Suicide of a fake genius. Fraudulent detective takes his own life." Why do people even care. They didn't know him, they just knew his skills, that's it. _

"Sometimes…"

"And you watch telly? You know why I'm here… I'm here because…" _She knows. I might not be him, but I'm not an imbecile either._

"What happened John?" _How could she be so calm? I just want to scream my head off! I want to cry, I want people to know that Sherlock was, although being the most annoying flatmate, the best man and friend I ever got to know._

"- Sher…"

"You need to get it out."

"My best friend, Sherlock Holmes. He's dead." _This seemed a nicer way to put it. I mean, pretty much anything is better than saying that I watched the detective throw himself down a building without doing anything to stop it just to end up seeing a bloody body on the sidewalk._

"The stuff that you wanted to say, and didn't say it…"

"Yeah…"

"Say it now."

"No… I'm sorry, I can't." _She wouldn't want to hear any of it. It's just her job. I don't want to tell her how I feel. Hell, I don't even know how I feel right now._

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

_Mrs. Hudson is talking to me. She's asking about Sherlock's experimenting materials._ Would you? _She started asking, but I knew where this was going and I couldn't._

"I can't go back to the flat again. Not for the moment. I'm angry." _That's it. Anger. Feels good to say it._

"It's ok John, there's nothing unusual in that, that's the way he made everyone feel."

"Those marks on my table and the noise, firing gun shots at one in the morning. Bloody specimens in my fridge. imagine ! Keeping bodies with his food!" and she kept going on. _She would've kept going on. But she was just upsetting herself more and more, so I stopped her._

"It's ok… I'm not actually that angry ok…" _I was that angry actually. But she didn't need to know._

"Ok, I'll leave you alone to… you know." _Yes, I do. To grieve in silence. To cry for a dead man who probably would be laughing at me for caring so much. Deep down I know this isn't true, I know I was his friend. I know he didn't show it all the time, but he was Sherlock after all. But I can't keep myself from telling myself that if he really did… care, he wouldn't have done it. Didn't I mean anything at all to him? Couldn't he trust me enough to talk about whatever it is that pushed him to do it? After all we've been through I can't believe he wouldn't even trust me!_

"Umm… Hmm.. You… You told me once, that you weren't a hero. Hum… there were times I didn't even think you were a human, but let me tell you this. You were…the best man, and the most human… human being, that I've ever known and that no one will ever convince me that you told me a lie and so… There." _This felt kind of awkward, but I somehow just wished that if I said it out loud he would hear me. And for some reason, I felt the need to touch the gravestone, as if it gave me some kind of connection to him._

"I was, so alone… and I owe you so much. Hopefully. There's just one more thing… One more thing. One more miracle Sherlock for me. Don't. Be… Dead… Would you do that just for me. Just stop it, Stop this…" _I couldn't get out another word. I was silently sobbing. _

xxxxxxxxx

**So… done with the recap! Now let the story begin. As I said, first Serlock fic, 2****nd**** fanfic ever so I'd love to have comments on my writing. And I'm very sorry if there are any mistakes, my first language is French so.. J**


	2. Chapter 2

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

**Sherlock**

If only he knew I was right here. I wish I could tell him. He thinks I'm an emotionless person, and that I never liked him. I can see it in his eyes. But I do. He is my best friend and I deeply care for him. And I will watch over him for as long as this case will take.

If only he knew.

Moriarty knew that John was my soft spot, he can read people as much as I can. But I guess I never realised myself that I needed John so much until I actually had to fake my death to keep him and the other two alive. But I can't let feelings in the way for now. I have to keep going like I always did, or else I'll just keep getting deeper into Moriarty's mischievous plan to have me killed. If anyone other than Molly and Mycroft were to know this was all an act, some people I care very much about would be killed within seconds.

Destroying Moriarty's web would be difficult, but not impossible. His team is here, close to John, close to Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade. They will obviously stay close to make sure I didn't fake anything, so I won't need to be far from Baker Street if there were to happen anything. I won't let anything happen to John and I will do everything as fast as I can. That's why I'm starting tonight.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxx**

**John**

Some say I'm lazy. Others say I'm depressed. I need help they say. They say it isn't "normal" for me to still be crying every day after six months. They all say I shouldn't visit his grave every day. I shouldn't stay home all the time. Oh John you should clean yourself up a little. Dr. Watson, when do you plan on coming back to the surgery? John, dear, do you want help to clean his things? Idiots. Staying here, going to the cemetery, sleeping in his bed, cleaning his violin. It's the only way I have to keep him close. The only way I have to keep a little hope that I will see him again. After all, they were the ones to push me back into Baker Street in the first place.

After getting up from the bed and putting on Sherlock's dressing gown, I walked towards his wardrobe. I haven't explored this place yet. I've done the kitchen, the living room and the washroom. I didn't think he hid so many things. Money, eyeballs, a skull identical to his "friend", experiments that were left unfinished… Not that he didn't want me to find them, I think it was more of a way to see if I would say something about it or just let it be. His wardrobe I kept until I finished the rest. I knew most of his things were in here.

I opened it and I felt a few seconds of happiness, as if he were here with me. It only lasted a moment though. I took out the first box. Simple things really, simple things that proved to me I was right, Sherlock was human. Pictures, cut out bits and pieces of newspapers in which he and I appeared… These made me smile. He hated this photo with the famous hat. He couldn't stand it, but he wore it well. The hat itself is in the box too. I put it on. It feels good. I've never seen these other pictures. He's younger. Looks the same though. Those piercing eyes, his curly dark hair. Of course the rest of the wardrobe was full of his material for his experiments. Erlenmeyer, heater, hydrochloric acid, benzene, etc. His computer was thrown in there as well, but I don't know the password to it and I doubt there is anything on it.

The next thing I found surprised me. I didn't think he would have any of _this_ laying around knowing how it could be difficult.

**Oh I know, I know, short chapters. Oh well, I guess I should say I'm sorry with little puppy eyes :D **

**See you soon ! J Reviews are easy to leave and are very very appreciated. I love knowing what people think, what you would maybe like to see happen, whatever !**


	3. Chapter 3

**Yeah! On for another chapter! Hopefully it won't be too bad !**

* * *

**Sherlock**

I watched him for the first few weeks. Mycroft had installed these cameras in 221 B and John failed to notice them, thankfully. But I couldn't stand to see him sobbing and mourning me even though I wasn't really dead. Not to mention him going through my things. God I hated that. I'd have to put everything back in order when I came back. Well, I guess I should forgive him for that, he thinks I'm dead, so what would I care. So, after exactly 7 weeks, 2 days and 9 hours, I told Mycroft to watch instead. He was to tell me if anything went wrong, more than his now usual state of a depressed man.

In six months, I had gotten two of Moriarty's sniper's down, along with a few more of his men. There is only one left. And I also have to make sure the whole web is down and assure John and I are secure afterwards. I know I will get back to John within the next 6 months or so, but I can hardly wait until then.

The first two had been quite easy. They were a couple. After I found the woman, all I had to do was ask questions as to where I would find her husband, and her body language always contradicted her words. She told me I wasn't close, yet her hands shook as we moved closer to the motel where he stayed. She constantly looked every direction except for the one I needed to go to find him.

Of course I asked where I could find the third one, but all I got out of them was his name: Sebastian Moran. It would do. But I had to kill them. Not that I'm a killer, but it was them or John along with Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson. The choice wasn't hard to make. Not like I made them suffer much either. I mean, I did give them some pain killers before dislocating both their jaws after a few punches and broke their arms, legs, fingers… The most fun part was seeing how they both suffered more when I did something to their loved one rather than when I hurt them. Okay, maybe I was a little extreme but come on, they did deserve it. Mycroft says being away from John is driving me crazy, I just think it's just making me a genius. I had to make them feel how I felt, and at least a little of what John must be feeling, and I couldn't find any better way to do so.

Now that these two lovebirds were happily married for life in… hell I guess, I'm moving on to Moran. He must've made a fake identity for the time being. And he is in this willingly; Moriarty had nothing on him to make him to this. No family, no friends, or barely and no faults to be ashamed of. So he was willing to kill me simply out of pure evil, just like my dear friend Jim. I had my friends on the streets that were keeping an eye out for any man that fit his description; it would make this search much easier.

* * *

**John**

A box full. Why did he keep it? Did he still use it? I don't think so. I would've known. I mean I did spend practically all my free time with him.

Unconsciously I took out one of the many syringes in the box and a bottle with some… cocaine? I've never really tried it; I guess I'll just see the effect it has. See the world through Sherlock's eyes maybe…

I tied a rubber band around my left arm and tapped my arm a little to make my vein visible enough. After taking some of the liquid into the syringe, I inserted it into my arm, as I had learned in med school. God this wasn't like me, but this felt natural, like I've done it thousand times before. Sherlock would hate me for doing this. But it's not like anyone else would know about it, so who cares.

* * *

Wow… never thought I could feel this good. Everything is so peaceful now. I guess I understand why so many people use drugs after all. This is so pleasing. Colorful. Emotionless, neutral. Simple.

"Why is life so complicated anyways? Not like it was worth it, we all end up dying or killing ourselves in the end. Ohh.. I shouldn't say that. He had his reasons. Wait… Am I talking to myself? This is really awesome. It really makes it easier to say things aloud. Shut up John. No Sherlock, you always want me to shut up, I have a word to say in this too you know! Not because you're some kind of freaking amazing bastard genius that you can decide on everything. Yes, it does give me the right actually, so shut up I can't think. Ok ok.. I'll shut up then." He totally would've said that.

"Sherlock…" I whispered. "I hope you're happy with yourself. I… You were the most horrible flatmate. The most irritating, selfish man I've ever known! I don't even know how I did to live with you for 18 months!... But God do I not regret one second of it all… You know me like no one Sherlock. You know me better than I know myself. I still remember when you proved to me that I didn't need a cane. I didn't even realize it until you said it. And when you just knew that I missed the adrenaline of the war: "And yet I said dangerous and here you are". But you were so arrogant. Oh I hated you some days. But never as much as I… as I cherished to have a best friend such as you. I… I miss my friend. I miss you Sherlock…" I couldn't help the tears falling as I was now crunched in a little ball holding on to the detective's clothes.

…

The early morning sunlight came across the window to hit me in the face. It literally felt as if it hit me, my head felt so bad. Too much crying again… Why do I have headache when I cry? It's stupid. It's maybe because of what I took last night too, still not sure what it was though. The only thing I know is that I surprisingly loved it. But I'm never doing that again. No more drugs, it's not for me. That's not how we deal with problems.

I slowly crawled to the radio and put a violin song I had secretly recorded while Sherlock was playing. I loved it. I went to the bed under the covers and decided to sleep some more, before going out to visit Sherlock's grave.

* * *

**Sorry again for short chapters, I'm kind of really bad at long chapters! Love you guys ! **


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello ! So here is the new chapter, hope you'll like it. Nothing much to say today so ! J**

* * *

**John**

Slowly, it became a routine. It wasn't a good thing, believe me. But it comforted me more than any person could. I would wake up late, get changed, go to the cemetery. I'd stay there for a couple hours, talk to Sherlock. Then I'd get back home, a little cocaine, enjoy the effects for a short moment, then go back to sleep again.

Few people would even dare to call this living. I'm practically dead. In fact I sometimes wish I were, but I don't have the courage to pull the trigger. I just don't think it would do that much good. Not like people would notice now, they barely come to see me anymore. I've been doing this for a month and a half now, nobody has noticed that I've been high practically every night.

* * *

When Sherlock got Mycroft's call about John probably developing an addiction to cocaine, he simply couldn't let it continue. He of all people knew what this addiction could lead to and the last thing he wanted was for John to go through this.

But how could he stop it if he was dead?

How could he stop it without John being suspicious?

He had to find a way and no matter how long it would take him to find an idea, he would do it.

* * *

John changed in the same clothes he wore the day before and went down to get a cab. It wasn't too long before he got to the graveyard. He walked passed a number of stones, following the same path as each other day, before stopping in front of Sherlock Holmes.

Only something was different this morning. There was a note pinned under a rock. It wasn't signed and it had John very much intrigued, as it didn't have a name and seemed to be meant for him, after reading what the nicely drawn letters wrote.

I make you feel high when you're feeling low.

I make you smile, but you need to let me go.

I'm not the one for you, you always knew.

There are much better things to do

Believe me, there are better ways

Even on your worst days.

Needless to say, that night, when John came to take his daily dose of drugs, he thought of the message and didn't take any. The person was right; he was only destroying his life bit by bit, bringing his health down at the same time. He's a doctor for god's sake, he should've known better. But who knows better than him what depression can do to some.

Even if he agreed with the message, he couldn't help wondering who it was from. Nobody could've known about this. He didn't see anyone anymore, didn't even talk or text them. And how did the person know he would be here, he was practically always alone at the cemetery. He couldn't help but think only Sherlock could know something like this with one glance of an eye, but who was he kidding, the man was dead and buried.

* * *

Sherlock, over the next two weeks, started to watch the camera footage once again. John didn't touch the cocaine once since the day he left the message. It had been a good move.

But now, after 8 months of chasing, running, fighting and chasing again, Moriarty's web was destroyed. Nobody was left, and those who were, well they were under strict surveillance and of no threat.

He could finally go home. _Home_. He barely even knew what that was anymore after all those months sleeping in crappy motels or even in the streets at some point. The idea of home almost brought tears to his eyes.

He was happy. But, although the last months had been intense, the idea of John's reaction truly scared him to death. He'd never been this afraid, even with the barrel of a gun pointed to his head.

How could he come up to John without him freaking out, without him fainting or not ever wanting to see him again? What if John didn't want Sherlock as a flatmate anymore? The detective's mind was full of _what if's_ and hopes for the best.

* * *

**Another chapter done. Tell me what you think ;) I love follows reviews and favorites, who doesn't ?!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello lovelies J Well nothing much to say again, enjoy!**

* * *

Today was the day 8 months had passed since Sherlock jumped. Just like the 7 other _month anniversaries_, John stopped by the flower shop to get some orchids before he went to the cemetery. He always thought they were elegant although simple enough.

John got in the cab he had asked to wait for him while he was inside and asked the driver to bring him to the cemetery. He wasn't expecting another message today. After two weeks without one, he thought it had just been a random way to make him stop taking drugs. And it worked.

But today, it was nothing of the sort. He didn't quite understand.

_I missed you._

It was written in the same way as it was the last time. The ex-army doctor turned the paper around in his hands, noticing it has two letters carefully drawn on the back.

_~SH~_

This had to be some kind of a joke. Who would have such a black humor, this wasn't funny at all.

A little upset, John quickly looked around to find who was the author of this _not so funny_ joke, only to see a slight movement near a tree not too far away. Anger drove him to drop the flower and stomp towards the tree.

Only he did not expect what was coming. He was frozen on spot, right in front of the man.

"Hello John. I believe you have read my message."

He wanted to move forward. He wanted to smile. He wanted to touch him. He wanted to scream. He wanted to punch him.

Yet he just stood, time seeming to stop.

He stared.

His eyes watered. Unshed tears threatened to fall as he tried to focus to find something to say.

Sherlock didn't say anything. He thought it was better to let John go through this shock on his own terms and rhythm. He would have time to explain later, now he just wanted to concentrate on John's reaction. For now he had absolutely no idea what John was thinking.

It got them both equally by surprise when John took one step forward and nearly choked Sherlock by hugging him so hard.

The consulting detective had no trouble returning the embrace, he had missed his friend so much he couldn't even put it to words. As soon as he held John a little tighter against his chest, the doctor stopped holding back and cried all the tears he possibly had left in him.

"God Sherl… I… I missed you so much. I missed you. I missed you all the time, every second Sherlock… I…" he choked through his sobs.

"Shh… I know John." He said softly while rubbing his back in a relaxing manner. "I know" he said again. " I missed you too."

John kept crying uncontrollably. With all the happiness and shock he was feeling in the same moment, John trapped Sherlock's head between his two hands and dropped a dozen little kisses to the detective's lips through his sobs. He then buried his head in the taller man's neck, not giving Sherlock any time to react or even process the kiss.

They simply stayed in each other's arms for a good part of an hour, John relaxing and adjusting to the fact that his best friend was back. It was only then that one of them started to talk again.

"So… are we just going to stay up here all day?" Sherlock said with a little smile.

"No... no you… you … you're coming back aren't you?" worry was clear in John's face as he let the words stumble out.

"I was afraid you wouldn't ask" he answered hugging his friend again.

As he let go, Sherlock when to his stone et took the orchid. "It's lovely, thank you." And then he walked towards the main road to call a cab and in no time they were back at the flat.

* * *

**So this is it for this chapter. Next is some little reunion talk !**


	6. Chapter 6

The flat hadn't changed much. Things weren't placed exactly the same, but Sherlock already knew that. It wasn't as clean as it used to be. Cups and plates were left unwashed on the kitchen counter and the fridge was basically empty.

"I'm sorry, John." The pain he made his friend feel just hit him, he realized just _how much_ he had hurt John, even if it was to save him.

While Sherlock had been observing the flat, he had not seen John go into his old room, to come back with a case in his hands.

"Play for me." John's eyes watered as he said those words, asking for the music he had missed so much.

Sherlock didn't say a word. He took the violin and plucked the strings a little to tune it.

It started gently, softly. Long, gracious sounds reached John's ears as Sherlock's body followed the music. He closed his eyes to savour this moment with all his being.

Peaceful turned to agitated then to tumultuous waves of pain expressed by long angry cries of music coming out of the instrument played by those beautiful hands. There were ups and downs in the sounds, moments of anger and of sadness mixed through parts of confusion. The detective's closed eyes let a tear drop out of the corner of his eyes, let to glide down the side of his nose to the corner of his lips.

John was astonished at all the emotions coming out through Sherlock's instrument. Sure, he had heard him play before, but he had never felt such pure emotions from the man.

The music slowly came back to a sweet melody of calm and happiness. It was exactly how he was feeling right now. All of it… it was pretty much how he felt these last few months. Had Sherlock really felt the same loss as John had?

* * *

The taller man put the instrument back in its case and stood in front of the window, staring at the moon that had taken place in the night sky.

Neither of them wanted to break the silence, both taking in the moment in their own way. John was the first to let out a few words.

"It…your music. It was beautiful." He didn't want to say too much, or he would start crying out the memories of the past few months again.

The detective froze, although John didn't notice it. The taller man turned around and stared at John before letting out a very quiet "Thank you John." Sherlock wanted to say the name over and over again, knowing his doctor likes to hear the name in his tone of voice. He never mentioned it but the slight blush every time he said it gave him a clue. Sherlock just wanted to please John in every way possible to make up for the lost time. Was it really just for that? Yes. It has to be. Or maybe…No. Absolutely not.

"Sherlock?" John interrupted the detective's thoughts.

"Hmm?" was the vague answer he got.

"Did you um…" he face reddened. Why? "Did you feel it too? You know… what you played? Or am I just being stupid and was really just music. I mean what's the point of emotions right. Hm… yeah I understand no emotions for you. Well just so you know, the music was exactly what I felt." And he kept on rambling.

"Oh John, do stop overthinking things. One question at a time please. Yes I felt it. No you're not being stupid. Yes I do have emotions, unlike what you seem to think." He stopped. Then started to pace around the living room.

"And emotions of all kinds have been haunting me since I left John. You did this to me. I used to be able to delete them somehow. But now. Now well. I can't seem to be able to not think about you, the things you went through because of me, the things we missed out on in the past few months. Even if I know it was for your safety, I have so many regrets John…"

John had no idea that Sherlock felt _so_ much. He couldn't seem to be able to speak out what he wanted to say: Don't regret, you're here now. I forgive you. You will explain one day and I will understand.

What came out was pretty much unexpected and John didn't even realize it until the words were out.

"Tell me, Sherlock. How do you feel about me?"

Sherlock looked at his friend with a weird look, taking in the question with quite a surprise.

"What? About you? How I feel…?" _Sherlock_. Sherlock blushed. "Ummm…" The detective seemed at a loss for words, struggling to talk the words he thought.

"I feel for you in many ways, it's different some days from others. Sometimes I feel like I have found a true friend. I can always count on you. I know that whatever I will get myself into, you will always be there to help me, even if you think I'm so very irresponsible some times. You always have my back. Hell you've had my back since the first time we met, shooting a cabbie for me. You always clean up my messes. You hang on even if I insult you, don't thank you and make your life so much harder than it needs to be most of the time. I… Well I also admire you. I feel close to you and understood by you and plenty more…"

John nodded as the dark haired man talked on and on. He really liked hearing Sherlock's voice, especially the sentences made by the words he was speaking. Again John didn't control what stumbled out of his mouth. Words which were followed by a heavy moment of silence.

"Do you love me Sherlock?"


	7. Chapter 7

"Do you love me Sherlock?"

The silence lasted for about ten minutes. John was afraid to say something else, he really wanted an answer and didn't want to give Sherlock a chance to avoid the question.

Sherlock knew the silence lasted nine minutes and forty seconds exactly. But he had to choose a good answer, considering he wasn't absolutely sure what John was expecting.

"Hm… Do I love you?" He shut his mouth a few more minutes, lips pressed tightly together, frowning a little as if it was the hardest question in the world. But to a self-called sociopath, it could actually be hard.

"I guess my answer to that question depends, John." He said looking at the man in question in the eyes.

John's eyes opened wide as he got an answer, but not quite.

"What do you mean: It _depends_? Isn't this a bad timing to go all smarty pants on me? Just… yes or no. Not _it depends_."

"Well Watson. It depends on your answer to the question if I ask you in return. If _you_ say yes then I might, _possibly_, care very much about you in a way even science can't understand. _But_ if you say _no_, well then my answer would be: Dear John, don't you know that I am from a long family line that gives nor receives love?"

John had plenty of emotions going through him. Did the man, all this time, use this excuse of his family to hide any feelings he felt? And…

"So I guess it's a yes then, detective." John blurted out.

"In which case…" Sherlock took a big step forward to stand right in front of his blogger, looking down a little. He put a steady hand on his blogger's jaw as he said "Yes, John. Yes. I do cherish you and I deeply, so profoundly love you John."

John eyes watered and let a tear of joy escape. Both couldn't help but smile. Both savoured this moment and wanted it to last forever. Both looked into each other's eyes and saw, knowingly, for the first time, the love they truly felt for one another.

John slid his hand on the back of Sherlock's neck, entwining his fingers through the man's dark curls, pulling him a little closer, keeping his eyes fixed to the pair of blue-gray eyes staring at him.

"I love you too. And I'm sorry you had to die for me to realise it."

"Well, if we have to get started with the apologies, I'd have to talk too long and I don't want…"

"Will you just kiss me already, you git." John said moving in slowly, wanting to see the other man's face, slightly flushed and eyes shining in anticipation of the long awaited kiss.

At first it was a slow gentle brush of their lips, barely touching long enough to feel it. They both pushed their lips gently together, savouring the soft lips of the other.

Their eyes closed softly as they completely gave in to the sensations given by their touches. Sherlock's mouth slightly opened, letting out a very soft moan. John brushed his tongue against the detective's lips, gently making his way in Sherlock's mouth. Their tongues entwined and circled, tasting each other for the first time.

John tasted of tea, with no surprise. A slight taste of honey and a background of mint. On the other hand, Sherlock was a sweet mixture of… well plenty of things too complicated for John to describe at the moment.

As they were in their bubble of love, they fell onto the couch, taking this opportunity take in a gasp of breath. They kept kissing little kisses and more passionate ones for the good part of an hour, which they didn't see go by.

John then snuggled and held on to Sherlock, his head on the man's shoulder. All the emotions exhausted him unknowingly. His eye lids were much too heavy to his taste, he wanted to stay awake in this moment for ever.

"Don't go" he whispered.

"Never. I'm staying right here, my John."

They both fell into a much needed sleep, and most peaceful one in a long time.


	8. Chapter 8

**Thanks so very much to my lovely reviewer ****_The Schwa and The Umlaut _****:D And thanks for all the follows and favorites too, it really means a lot ! **

* * *

As the first ray of sunlight pierced through the curtains, Sherlock opened his eyes, not quite remembering the previous night. The weight he felt on his chest made him look down a little, only to see John's calm face and slow breathing. The dark haired man smiled.

Yes. I love him, he thought. How he managed to not do anything about it before, he didn't know. But he knew he would never regret telling John the truth about his feelings when he had asked.

Sherlock gave a little kiss on John's head, making him stir a little. His long fingers were tracing patterns on the smaller man's back, enjoying his presence.

John woke with an immediate smile. Everything felt right for once. The last piece of the puzzle had fell into place and he knew where he truly belonged; right here in Sherlock's arms.

"And I thought I was just having the best dream in my life. Turns out it wasn't a dream." John said with a grin.

"You don't know what you're getting yourself into John," Sherlock said with a half-smile.

"Of course I do. We're already like an old couple, except we didn't do the kissing and snogging part!"

The detective let out a little laugh.

"Think about it. Me telling you to eat. Me telling you to get dressed. Me laughing at how you act. Me getting angry because of your experiments. You always calm or agitated. The fighting, acting as if it never happened, etcetera etcetera!"

"True" Sherlock said his chin on his fingers. "But I've got to say I like the new arrangement better."

He leaned forward and gave John a soft but quick little kiss.

John smiled. "I love you Sherlock. I think I always have. And thank you."

Sherlock looked at him with a questioning gaze, "For what?"

"Just, because. Thank you for being here. Now and in the past."

"Well you shouldn't thank me. You should be angry John. I abandoned you, let you down and let you suffer all alone. Made you believe I was dead, and that was the most horrible thing I could do to you. I… I mean if you did that… I don't know how I'd manage. I was selfish, John. I only thought of myself because I couldn't bare to lose you. I'm sorry. So very, very sorry. Why aren't you screaming, yelling or hitting me?" He said, looking at the floor.

John raised his hand to the other man's face and lifted his chin to look in his eyes. "Explain everything and I _will_ understand, Sherlock. I don't know why you did what you did, but please tell me you had your reasons. I love you and even if I'm mad and filled with anger deep down, it will never change and I will forgive you. Because my love for you is strong and the happiness I feel when I'm with you is unique. I'm not screaming because I'm happy to see you alive and well. And I feel I have no right to be so mad because I have asked for a miracle and it was granted, so I should be grateful. And I am."

"Ok…" Sherlock was at a loss for words suddenly.

"So. Explain now."

Sherlock nodded slowly, thinking of where to start.

"Ok. I knew Moriarty would have something in mind so I prepared myself for the worst possible. I didn't think I'd actually have to do it though. But I did."

He was silent for a couple seconds, John waiting to hear what was next.

"Moriarty. On the roof top, he threatened to have the people I loved killed. Unlike most people he knew I cared, much more than I wanted to admit to myself. So you, Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson, you all had a sniper with a gun pointed to your faces if they didn't see me jump. I figured there was a way to make Moriarty stop them, but he knew I would find it and shot himself instead. So I had no choice John. I had to jump. I wouldn't have been able to stand the fact that I would be responsible for three deaths. For _your_ death. If I would've told you, they would have known it was all fake. You wouldn't have acted the same way."

The last sentence hit John like a punch in the stomach.

"Of course I wouldn't have acted the same way, you _idiot_! I was devastated! You _hurt _me Sherlock! You took the light out of me, you ripped my heart out when you jumped! I thought it was all my fault! I thought I could've prevented it, done something to save you! I thought…" John let out a sob. "I thought I didn't mean enough to you, that my best friend didn't care enough about me to talk to me."

Sherlock's eyes watered. He hated being responsible for all of this, but he had to.

"But you're alive, John! Breathing, sleeping, eating, _alive_!"

"Barely! Did you not read my mind, with that freaking brilliant mind of your's? Do you not know how hard it was for me to not put a bullet through my head every single night? Do you not know how much I wanted to end it all? How I wanted to join you, let go all the pain and misery!"

"I didn't think I meant so much to you at the time… I'm incredibly sorry John." Sherlock said with compassion.

"You could have told me you know. Not beforehand, that I understand. But you didn't have to wait 8 long months to come back to life! One week would've been fine. I would have been able to keep appearances, but at least I would have known you were safe."

"I know. But I never thought you would suffer that much. I obviously would have found a way if I did."

That brought back a little smile to John. "Obviously."

Sherlock hugged the smaller man. He held on tight, not wanting to let go. "I think you are the most amazing man I have ever known, and I will forever be sorry for what I did."

"Well, it will be a good bargaining chip when you won't listen to me!" John said with a laugh. "Now. How did you do it?"

"Molly helped."

"Molly at the morgue in love with you Molly?"

"Yes John, Molly Hooper. I stayed with her a while, before I went after Moriarty's web. She also supplied the nurse and doctor clothes for my friends from the street; they were all fake emergency people. Fake blood too. I landed on the mattress that was set for me. Got a few bruises but nothing major."

"But… I'm a doctor. And you were dead. I checked for myself. You weren't breathing, had no pulse."

"I believe I have once told you it was all a trick. The rubber ball, under the arm. Blood flow goes down enormously, to the point where you would not feel my pulse with a quick check, reason why you were pulled away after a few seconds only."

_It's a trick, just a magic trick._

John felt as if he should have guessed. But he didn't.

"Right. Well, I'm just glad you're doing fine, except you're incredibly too thin."

John got up and went to the kitchen. He put some water to boil for some tea while he cooked eggs, bacon and toasts. A welcome home breakfast.

Once it was all ready, he put it into two plates, mostly in Sherlock's and they both sat to eat while staring lovingly at each other.

* * *

**Ok. So now for those who were wondering. The next chapter we will start the real M rated stuff. Depending on reviews or other comments, I might alternate chapter like these and ones much more M, maybe more maybe less, depends on you guys. So let me know what you like best ! **


	9. Chapter 9

**Ok, so warning for those who don't want to read M rated stuff, well there is smut later in this chapter ;) And for those who like it, tell me what you think, I've never really written this J**

**Thank you so very much for all the follows and again to my very loved reviewers**

**_The Schwa and The Umlaut_**** and to ****_Booda77_****. They are awesome J**

* * *

As Sherlock was doing an experiment, John was updating his blog. Both were in their own little worlds.

"Did you ever kiss a man besides me?" Sherlock asked out of nowhere.

John was surprised by his voice and also by the question. "What?"

"Oh John, you understood me" he responded with a little smile.

"Well if you wish to know, no I haven't. Why do you ask?"

"Curious." He sounded weird but John let it go.

"You?" he couldn't help but ask. He never really knew about Sherlock's past, he didn't really talk about it.

"Not voluntarily and without reason."

John was confused. "What do you mean?"

"Well you know, on a case or something, I just had to but it never really meant anything…"

"Oh… Did you ever kiss anyone that meant something to you?"

"What is this now, an interrogation?" Sherlock asked quickly.

"No. Fine. Answer me and ask whatever you want, I will answer and you do the same. Moment of truth." John was smiling, Sherlock wasn't.

"Oh come on John, this is so childish. Truth or dare is not for grown men."

"And who said anything about dares?" Sherlock didn't answer. "So, did you? Ever kiss anyone special?"

"Well of course, John. 2 days ago and every hour since then."

"And before me?"

"You won't get by so easily, you already asked one question and I answered; now it's my turn."

John nodded, waiting for the dark haired man's question.

"Hm… How would you describe us, together?"

"Huh…" John looked upwards, not having given it much thought. "A couple. Boyfriends? Partners?"

"I'd rather partners. Boyfriends seems a bit childish. Partners in work and in love. Seems good, don't you think?"

"Yes," John said smiling. "Very good."

Both looked at each other with eyes sparkling with love and affection.

"So, before me" John started again "Anyone?"

"Nope. I shall say my first kiss was very amazing and made me understand why people like it so much."

He leaned in and pressed his lips to John's before laying with his head on the other man's lap and observing him.

"When you have nightmares. What are they about, John?"

"I… I've never really talked about this, Sherlock." John was very surprise by the question and not sure if he wanted to answer it.

"Well, it was your idea. Moment of truth. I want to be there for you in every way, John. I want us to trust each other with anything and everything."

John nodded.

"Well lately, the past few months have been about you. Trying to reach out to you screaming for help after you jumped but I couldn't do anything. Telling you I love you but can't do a thing about it. Red on your face and in your hair. But those seem to be over now…"

Both were silent. John decided to continue, trying to change the subject of the Fall.

"But before. Those were terrible. Those were different every night. But always true and hard." His hand shook a bit. Sherlock took it into his two hands, in a comforting manner. "Children a few feet away. Playing and laughing until… A mine… The little girl stepped on it, no one knew it was there. In front of me, they all…" Tears were sliding down John's face. "Body parts were everywhere… blood and cries, screams… And that's just one of the nightmares. Others are of me getting shot, friends losing their legs, rapes I couldn't stop without getting killed myself… So many horror stories, Sherlock. They haunt me and seem as true as me talking to you right now…"

"I'm sorry, John…" he held his lover tightly in his arms.

"Thank you for listening. I've never felt someone would care enough to listen. So I kept it for myself. But it's good… To let someone know…"

"I will always care for you John. And I will always listen."

John smiled. Yes. He could finally be happy.

"Why did you start doing drugs?"

"I started young enough. I wasn't able to be like my brother and believe that emotions weren't an advantage. I believed love could exist, even with my family and all. So I let myself feel. But the emotions you feel when you're young, at school, and being called a freak of nature every second of your day aren't very happy. Si I wanted to forget. And forget I did. I never thought it would go as far as it did though. I thought I could stop if I wanted too, until the day my brother found me laying on my bedroom floor overdosed… I'm glad it's all over now." There was a short pause. "Why did you?"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm the one who let the message at the cemetery, remember?"

"Oh… that time. Yeah… Well I found your stuff. Thought I'd figure out why you did it. Turns out it felt good the first time and the second and so on… Why did you even keep that?"

"As a reminder of what I used to be and why I don't want to go back to that."

John nodded, understanding now the meaning of this box for Sherlock. It was a proof that things could get better.

"What experience do you have with men, John?" Sherlock said jokingly to ease the atmosphere.

"Hand job." He burst out laughing. "Mine for the most part. But once in Afghanistan, we were lonely and in need. It wasn't anything serious. Just a one-time stress relief thing. Let's say I understood then that I was bisexual, although I didn't admit it truly to myself up until 8 months ago."

They were both laughing.

"How about you?" John asked giving Sherlock a long, soft, open mouthed kiss on the lips.

Sherlock's face reddened a bit before answering "None…"

John smiled a little, showing Sherlock he had nothing to be shy about. "Well then… What would you think…. I showed you… what you've been missing all these years?" he asked the other man through little kisses on the lips, the nose and jaw.

Sherlock looked up to John's eyes. "I say that would be a marvelous idea."

The dark haired man held his lover's face between his hands, kissing him very softly. John let his right hand tangle up in the dark curls as his other was at the bottom of Sherlock's back.

Sherlock slipped his tongue into John's mouth, exploring every inch of it. Both their eyes fluttered closed, sensing their closeness fully.

John's left hand untucked Sherlock's dress shirt before letting it draw patterns on his back, feeling the muscles moving as the other man let his hands slide down to John's chest.

The smaller man stood, pulling Sherlock up on his way. He walked backwards towards Sherlock's room without breaking contact. Clothing was left on the floor as Sherlock's shirt was unbuttoned and John's jumper was removed.

Sherlock gently pushed John onto the bed, laying a little over him. He smiled at John, dropping a little kiss on his jaw. The kisses continued down to his neck, where he left a love bite before he continued. He was memorizing every inch of skin as he gently passed his hand over John's scar.

It gave the man in question a tingling sensation and made his heart beat accelerate so much more. People usually did as if it just didn't exist. Sherlock was admiring it.

In the comfortable silence, the only sound one could hear was the loud breaths of two men filled with desire.

Sherlock looked into John's blown out pupils before sliding his hands down the man's muscular torso and reaching to unbutton his jeans. As he worked his lover's trousers off, John lifted himself a little to help. The detective then took off his own in a confident motion, leaving both men in their pants.

John then took Sherlock and moved him, straddling the dark haired man. John once again joined lips with the detective. "I love you" he then whispered to his ear. Sherlock smiled.

John drew a path on the detective's smooth skin down to his pants, letting his fingers slip under the waistband. Still staring into the detective's blue-grey eyes lovingly, he slid the pants off before removing his own. Then skin on skin contact made them shiver and they were both panting, their growing erections brushing against each other.

John only then realised something was missing as he looked at Sherlock with a questioning gaze and a corner smile. The other man extended his arm to his second drawer and gave the lube and condom to John. "I took the liberty to get them in your room this morning…" he said smiling. John couldn't help but still think of how brilliant his detective was and just how much he loved him.

As John took the lube, Sherlock nodded to his silent question, giving permission to go on and spreading his legs. After he rubbed a little lube onto Sherlock's hole he slowly pushed in his finger. The dark haired man took a deep breath, taking in this new sensation. It was odd but not as uncomfortable as he thought it would be. John moved around his finger, loosening him up before inserting a second finger gently into Sherlock's tightness, trying not to hurt him.

When he saw that the other man adjusted to the stretch, he spread his fingers in a scissoring motion. Sherlock found he didn't dislike the sensation all that much. He started pushing against John's fingers, trying to get more. "I'm ready, John" he said lightly.

Listening to Sherlock, John slipped out his fingers and put a condom. He then pressed the tip of his cock against Sherlock's entrance, slowly sliding into the warmth of the man's body. Sherlock put his hands on John's hips, holding him tightly. When Sherlock's body relaxed into the sensation, John started moving in and out, letting out soft moans of pleasure.

When John pushed in a little further, Sherlock let out an uncontrolled gasp. "Ohh…" John knew he had just reached Sherlock's prostate. He kept the same pace, always reaching down to the other man's soft spot. "It… this feels good…" Sherlock let out between breaths. John bent over pressing his lips to the detective's.

They were both moving slowly and passionately, feeling as one. "Johhn…" Sherlock cried out as he felt his body tense with pleasure. He felt lightheaded for a few seconds before coming down from his orgasm.

Seeing Sherlock let go like this and feeling his muscles contract over him made John go over the edge also, leaving both of them panting.

John carefully slid out and put the condom in the garbage next to the bed. Sherlock took the sheet to clean himself a little before throwing it all on the ground. They then lay close together, John's head resting on Sherlock's chest.

"That was… just amazing." Sherlock said after a few moments of silence.

"Yes it was."

John couldn't help the wide grin on his face, neither could Sherlock.

"I love you, John." Sherlock said, leaning in to give his lover another kiss.

John nodded, his eyes closing before drifting off to sleep.

The detective stayed awake a little while, watching John before joining him in a peaceful rest.

* * *

**So… was it horrible? Or was it ok? Is it weird that it was kind of fun to write ? haha ;)**


End file.
